


Your Past Will Haunt You in the Strangest of Ways

by frankiesin



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon Compliant, Gen, I didn't want my teacher to know I write slash, Post-Split, Spencer Roasting Brendon, also Spencer's seventeen, this is the straight version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: A seventeen year old Spencer Smith ends up on Brendon's couch one day, and starts asking questions. Brendon has to face his past, and it's not easy.Or: I couldn't yell at Brendon for essentially stealing Panic! so I had bb!Spencer do it for me and then turned it in for a grade because college isn't real.





	

**Author's Note:**

> We've all done the "this was fic but I changed the names to turn it in for class lmao" thing. I see that, and I raise you this: my creative writing class was assigned to take a celebrity/TV show character and put them in a different universe. Basically, a crossover AU. I asked my teacher if I could do time travel, she said yes, and thus, actual fanfiction that I turned in for a grade without changing the names.
> 
> Also, Professor Brown, if you're reading this, please turn back now and never mention this in class. Thanks.

Brendon Urie woke up in his bed, next to his wife, Sarah, who was still asleep. He watched her for a moment, admiring how peaceful she looked, but he couldn’t stay in bed. Something was off. Something had made Brendon wake up early, and so he got out of bed, put on some pants, and headed out of the bedroom. He rubbed his arms as he padded through the rooms, feeling like he and Sarah weren’t alone in the house and worried that somehow a fan had gotten inside while they were asleep.

 

Brendon came around to the front of his couch, and jumped when he saw who was there. He clasped his hand over his mouth so he didn’t accidentally yell out loud in surprise, and then leaned forward to get a better look at the sleeping teenage boy.

 

He had shaggy, flat ironed brown hair just past his chin, soft features, and one hell of a baby face. It was like looking back ten years into Brendon’s own past, because there, unaware that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, was the seventeen year old version of Brendon’s best friend and former drummer, Spencer Smith. 

 

Brendon was still staring at the sleeping younger Spencer when Spencer moved and opened his eyes. He pushed his bangs out of his face and stared up at Brendon with a slight scowl on his face. “Brendon? What the hell, you look like a douchebag.”

 

“Don’t be rude,” Brendon said. That wasn’t what he was expecting Spencer to say. If the situation had been reversed, and Brendon was the one waking up in a different time, he wouldn’t insult his host. Not immediately. He’d do it later, once he figured out what was going on. Brendon ran his hand through his own hair, realising it was still sleep-tousled and a mess, and then sat down in front of the couch so that he was eye to eye with Spencer. “How’d you get here, anyway?”

 

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know. How old are you, though? Like, thirty five?”

 

“I’m twenty-nine, asshole,” Brendon said. If Spencer was going to be snarky, then Brendon could be snarky right back. That’s how they’d always been around each other, because they were friends. It was all harmless banter, anyway. 

 

“Oh. You look old.”

 

Okay, dude, I don’t know if it’s the time travel thing that’s making you bitchy or if I just don’t remember how you used to act, but chill,” Brendon said. He rubbed his temples. It was too early for this. He had a tour to pack for. “Seriously. I have… I have things to do and you showing up here is going to mess with that. So can we skip the snarky Spencer-ness and get to the part where we figure out how you got here and what we need to do to get you back to… where are you from again?”

 

“Las Vegas,” Spencer said, a smile twitching on his face. So he was still the same Spencer, then, just in a smaller body and from a time where having layered bangs was cool.

 

Brendon shook his head. “No, I meant what  _ year _ are you from. I know what city you’re from; I met you there.”

 

“I went to sleep last night in 2005,” Spencer said. “We’re in Delaware, working on the album. You ate like seventeen cough drops and then passed out on the floor, so Ryan and I drew dicks on your face.”

 

“I hate that I remember that happening,” Brendon said. It was still all in good fun, because Brendon knew that about a week later, he was going to buy a can of whipped cream for the sole purpose of spraying it all into Ryan’s pillowcase. “If I knew that you came here after that night, I would have drawn shit on your face before waking you up just to get revenge.”

 

“You’ll get revenge eventually,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

 

Brendon was about to respond when he felt his butt start to buzz. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see who was calling him before ten in the morning. It was Linda, current Spencer’s fiancee. They were supposed to be getting married in less than a month. Brendon swore. “Oh, shit. Spence, stay here, don’t go into the bedroom or anywhere else, I have to take this. Like, right now. Very important. Hold on.”

 

Spencer watched Brendon leave the room with a puzzled look on his face, but he didn’t follow Brendon into the kitchen. Brendon glanced back at Spencer one final time before answering Linda’s call. “Hey, what’s up?”

 

“Is Spencer with you guys?” she asked. That answered a question Brendon should have been asking himself earlier. He hadn’t even thought about what had happened to the current Spencer. He didn’t know where current Spencer was, or even could be, especially since he wasn’t in his home with Linda.

 

“Not… exactly,” Brendon said slowly. “Spencer’s  _ here _ , but it’s not our Spencer. He’s seventeen.”

 

“In a time travel way or in an age regression way?” Linda asked. She was handling the information better than Brendon was, and for a moment, Brendon considered asking her to come over and help him figure out what to do. That wouldn’t end well, though, because the seventeen year old in Brendon’s living room had no idea who Linda was, and it would be a little jarring for the kid to see his future wife when he was still dating someone from his high school.

 

“Time travel,” Brendon said. “I’m trying to figure out how to fix it, but I’ll keep you updated?”

 

“That’s probably a good idea. I don’t want to freak him out or anything by showing up like,  _ hi, I’m your fiancee from the future _ ,” Linda said. “I might invite Sarah over, later, just so I don’t overthink things too much.”

 

“I’ll tell her when she wakes up,” Brendon said. He finished the call, scribbled a note to Sarah, and then returned to the living room. Spencer had moved from his spot on the couch, and was looking at the records and awards that Brendon had set up on one of the walls. He walked up behind Spencer and pointed at  _ Vices and Virtues _ and then  _ Too Weird _ . “We made those together, by the way. That’s us.”

 

“Where’s the first one?” Spencer asked. He turned around, holding a copy of Brendon’s most recent album in his hands. “Where’s  _ Fever _ ? You know, the one the four of us have been working our asses off to make for the past month and a half?”

 

“It, um, I took it down for a bit,” Brendon said. He was proud of  _ A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out,  _ obviously, because it was the first album he’d ever done with the band and it was still pretty good, even eleven years later. He hadn’t written it, though, and so it wasn’t  _ his _ album and it didn’t get to go on the wall. “But, uh, the one you’re holding? That’s the new one. I worked really hard on it. It’s good.”

 

“Just you?” Spencer made a face and looked back at  _ Death of a Bachelor _ . Brendon regretted all the pop art outlines he’d put on the album art. It looked weird, now, with Spencer glaring at it and critising it silently. “What about Ryan and I? And Brent?”

 

“It’s just me,” Brendon said. “Well, I’ve got some other guys, for when Panic! goes on tour, because I can’t play every instrument at the same time and still sing--”

 

“What happened to the band, though?” Spencer interrupted him. “I can guess what happens with Brent, but Panic! isn’t  _ your _ band. Ryan and I started it, and it was Ryan’s idea in the first place, and he was the one writing songs, so why did we let you keep the name?”

 

“You didn’t  _ let _ me do anything, because Ryan left, and you and I kept going until you didn’t want to be a part of the band anymore,” Brendon said. He didn’t mention that Spencer--his Spencer, the one who was a few months shy of being twenty-nine--had left the band to deal with his drug issues. Spencer was clean now. Everything was fine between the two of them in 2016, and they still hung out even though they weren’t in a band together. 

 

“Ryan left?” Spencer asked. He frowned, and Brendon remembered that before the split, Ryan and Spencer had been best friends. Now, the two didn’t talk to each other much, and current Spencer wasn’t inviting Ryan to his own wedding. 

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “There was a big falling out. He and Jon--the guy who replaces Brent--wanted to do one thing with the band, and you and I wanted to do something else. So we split in half.”

 

Spencer made a face. Brendon knew that it wasn’t the best idea to tell someone about their future, because it could mess everything up. Spencer could end up going back to 2005, getting rid of Brendon out of spite, and then Panic! at the Disco would never be a band and Brendon would end up being a hairdresser or something. He didn’t want to give up what he had. It was a good life.

 

Brendon leaned over to take his record back from Spencer. “So, how should we go about sending you back where you came from before I spill any more secrets and destroy the timeline?”

 

“I don’t know,” Spencer said. “Where does Ryan live now?”

 

“Why are you so obsessed with Ryan?” Brendon retorted. “I haven’t talked to the dude in like, seven years. I don’t know where he is.”

 

“Because where I’m from, Ryan’s my best friend and you’re just a weird looking Mormon kid who can kick our asses in videogames,” Spencer said. “We might be best friends in your year, and Ryan might not mean shit to  _ you _ any more, but I’m not you and I’m not from here, and I’m not going to let whatever feud we have end a friendship.”

 

Spencer stood up and started heading out the door. Brendon screamed internally, because that was a very, very bad idea. This was Los Angeles, and there were a lot of Panic! fans in the area who remembered what the band looked like when they were first starting out. If anyone saw a seventeen year old Spencer Smith angrily storming around Los Angeles in search of Ryan Ross, there would be a lot of questions. 

 

Brendon was tired of people asking him questions he didn’t have the answer to. He followed Spencer to the door, grabbing him and stopping him from leaving. “Bad idea, dude.”

 

Spencer ducked under Brendon’s arms to get away, but didn’t try to leave again. He just stood with one hand on the door handle and the other on his hip. “Why? Are you afraid someone out there is going to eat me? I’m not an idiot, Brendon, I know how to survive on my own.”

 

“Yeah, no, I remember that,” Brendon said. What he actually remembered was the four of them being wide-eyed teenagers who were too scared of losing everything to ask for much help, and so they just bullshitted their way through most things and hoped for the best. “But we’re in Los Angeles, and Panic! is really famous now, and I don’t want anyone seeing you running around because that would spark a lot of questions.”

 

“Do you have a car?” Spencer asked.

 

Brendon dead-panned. “I am not letting you drive my car.”

 

“You let me drive your minivan from Vegas to Delaware,” Spencer argued. “Why is this different?”

 

“Because my current car costs more money than you’ve ever had in your life, you’re literally straight out of 2005, and last time I checked, you don’t even know where current Ryan is,” Brendon said. 

 

Spencer narrowed his eyes, and the tiniest smile crossed his face. Somehow, Brendon had given himself away, because Spencer rarely looked that smug. “You do know, don’t you? You know where Ryan is.”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“You didn’t have to,” Spencer said. He let go of the door and crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at Brendon. “Take me to Ryan. He’s my best friend, and maybe if I figure out a way to fix whatever you and future me did to ruin that, I’ll be able to go back to Delaware and you can return to your life as a famous rockstar with a bunch of shiny trophies in your living room.”

 

Brendon gritted his teeth but didn’t snap back at Spencer. The kid wasn’t even eighteen yet. There was a lot he didn’t know, and Brendon wasn’t his teacher. Brendon was going to take Spencer to Ryan’s apartment, hope that Ryan was home and wouldn’t punch either of them in the face, and then after that inevitably failed he was going to start calling people and ask if they knew how to fix this situation.

 

Brendon hadn’t been a babysitter since he was in high school, and he didn’t want to start being one now. There was a reason he and Sarah had decided to have dogs instead of kids. They were a lot easier to handle, and they didn’t have mood swings. 

 

“Are we going or not?” 

 

Brendon sighed and headed towards the garage. “Follow me. Grab some sunglasses on your way out, LA is sunny as fuck.”

 

“I’m from Vegas, I know what  _ sunny _ feels like.”

 

“LA is different,” Brendon said. He just wanted something to cover up Spencer’s face in case anyone saw them. There was a very slim chance it would work, but Brendon was willing to try anything. He didn’t need more rumours about his private life circling around on the internet. Brendon loved his fans, but sometimes they were a little too curious and invasive.

 

He glanced over at Spencer, who was hunched down in the passenger seat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and staring out the window as Brendon drove them through downtown LA. He had sunglasses on, a pair of Sarah’s that were round with thick red rims and reflected the sunlight. While Brendon was still paying attention to him, Spencer turned away from the window and lowered Sarah’s sunglasses. “Pay attention to the road. I don’t want to die in the future.”

 

“Right,” Brendon said. 

 

“Does Ryan hate me?” Spencer asked, quietly. Brendon was lucky his car’s engine was quiet, because he wouldn’t have heard the question otherwise. “I mean current me. And current Ryan. I took his band from him.”

 

“Technically, it was your band too, and we agreed to keep using the name,” Brendon said. “You gotta stop idolising him, dude. It’s not healthy.”

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Eat my ass. You’re the one who idolises Ryan. I’m his best friend, and we’re on equal footing.  _ I’m _ not the one who keeps looking at him like he hung the moon in the sky himself. I know he’s fucked up, and I know he’s kind of pretentious, and I have the balls to call him out on it when he needs it.”

 

“Is that what you’re going to do when we get to Ryan’s apartment?” Brendon asked. “Call him out on his bullshit or whatever?”

 

Spencer shrugged. “Maybe that was why I was sent here, to the future. To get you and Ryan to stop being idiots. It’s what I do in 2005, it’s probably what future me is still doing with you now, even if you think you’re better than that now.”

 

Brendon shook his head. He wasn’t as caught up in his own ego as Spencer thought he was. This Spencer was cocky, too, considering that a few years later, he was going to be the one leaving the band to go into rehab. Not that Brendon blamed his Spencer for that, or thought Spencer was weak for getting help. He was proud of his best friend, but his best friend’s former self needed to sit back and realise that everything wasn’t black and white. “It’s not that simple, Spence. We’re all adults now. We’ve changed. Ryan’s done shit that none of us would have been okay with five years ago.”

 

“And?” Spencer said. They were almost at Ryan’s apartment. Brendon wanted to stall, but he was afraid Spencer would catch on. Spencer leaned forward, towards Brendon. “Look, Brendon, if you can tell me something Ryan did that makes him really irredeemable, then we can turn this car around and go home. But if the worst you’ve got is drugs and music differences, then I don’t care. Ryan and I aren’t the same person. We never were. But that didn’t matter when we were twelve, it doesn’t matter when we’re seventeen, and it’s not going to matter when we’re thirty.”

 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Brendon warned, but he turned off onto the street where Ryan’s apartment was and pulled up to the gate. He took a deep breath, rolled his windows down, and smiled up at the lady behind the desk over his sunglasses. “Hi, I’m here to see Ryan Ross. I’m an old friend.”

 

“I know who you are,” she said. For a moment Brendon was afraid she was going to keep him out, but she pressed the button and the gate slowly swung open, letting Brendon and Spencer inside the complex. 

 

“This is a lot nicer than yours,” Spencer commented. 

 

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “We make it pretty big, before everything goes to shit.”

 

“Sweet,” Spencer said. Brendon glanced over. He was grinning. Brendon couldn’t blame him; the kid had just found out that all his dreams were going to come true, and he was going to get to be in a band and be a musician. “Which one is Ryan’s?”

 

“First floor,” Brendon said, and pointed at it. They were just sitting in the car now. Brendon was nervous. He couldn’t see this ending well. He figured Spencer was starting to realise it, too, but Spencer got out of the car first and walked over to Brendon’s side, tapping on the window and motioning for Brendon to get out. Brendon sighed and followed Spencer to the door. He put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Let me do the talking at first.”

 

“Dude, no, you two hate each other,” Spencer said, and knocked before Brendon could say anything else. “I can explain time travel. I can’t explain what I haven’t seen yet.”

 

“Right,” Brendon said, because that made sense. 

 

The door swung open, revealing Ryan Ross with messy hair and his dog at his ankles. He looked like he had just woken up. He rubbed his face, frowning at Spencer. “Are you real?”

 

“Yeah,” Spencer said, and walked into the apartment without waiting for Ryan to invite him in. Brendon and Ryan stared at each other for a moment before Ryan stepped back into his apartment and motioned for Brendon to come inside. Brendon did, not looking at Ryan because this was much more awkward than he’d imagined, and found Spencer on Ryan’s couch, playing with Ryan’s dog like he belonged there and the two hadn’t been apart for seven years. 

 

Ryan sat on the other end of the couch from Spencer, and Brendon took up residence in a chair across from the two of them. Ryan was watching Spencer carefully, just like Brendon had this morning. They were ten years apart in time, and eleven in age, but Brendon still felt like he was a third wheel. Ryan and Spencer weren’t even talking to each other yet. 

 

“Why are you here?” Ryan asked Spencer. 

 

“Like, in your apartment or in the future?” Spencer asked. 

 

“Either. Both.”

 

“I don’t know why I’m in the future, but I’m here because you and I are best friends and I don’t know why that changes in this future,” Spencer said. He dropped his gaze to the dog, who was whining because Spencer had started to ignore her. “And I mean, Brendon told me why you left the band, which is okay, you’re allowed to have different music tastes and goals and shit, but I don’t want to end up losing you. You’re my best friend.”

 

“Spence, it’s not that simple,” Ryan started. 

 

Spencer’s head shot up, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched in anger. Sarah’s sunglasses, which he’d perched on his forehead, slipped down onto his face and ruined the reaction. Spencer pushed them back up and pushed his fringe out of his face. “Stop saying that. Both of you. I don’t give a shit how complicated it was, I don’t care if you and Brendon can’t stand being in the same room as each other for whatever reason, but I’m here for some reason and right now the only reason I can think is because we’re not friends and the universe or God or whatever doesn’t think that’s right. So, since future me isn’t here, I’m going to do his job and fix shit.”

 

Ryan was smiling. Brendon had no idea why Ryan was smiling, because tiny Spencer was a little scary when he was pissed off. He’d forgotten about that. 

 

“I missed you,” Ryan said. Brendon really felt like a third wheel. Ryan reached out and pet his own dog. “And you’re right, the stuff between us isn’t as complicated as the stuff between Brendon and I.”

 

“So,” Spencer said. “How do we become friends again?”

 

“You’re getting married?” Brendon offered. 

 

Spencer and Ryan turned to Brendon with the same astonished expression. Spencer was blushing a little, like he couldn’t believe he was actually going to get married to someone. Ryan looked a little betrayed, but Ryan knew that he and Spencer weren’t as close as they used to be. Just because there was one Spencer here in Ryan’s apartment didn’t mean he was the right Spencer. 

 

“To who?” Spencer asked.

 

Brendon waved him off. “You don’t know her yet. She’s awesome though. You’re going to love her, I promise. But, anyway, if you guys want to repair this friendship or whatever, that’s a perfect idea.”

 

“I don’t… what if our Spencer isn’t cool with it?” Ryan asked. “I don’t want to crash his wedding.”

 

“Dude, you’re Ryan Ross,” Spencer said. “Unless you make a major personality shift in the next ten years, I’m not going to be mad if you show up at my wedding. But you should at least call future me and his fiancee and be like,  _ hey, it’s me, Ryan, wanna go get coffee or whatever it is adults do with their spare time _ and then just… mention the wedding. Somehow.”

 

“I can mention it to Spencer,” Brendon suggested. “Future Spencer, not you.”

 

“I know.”

 

Ryan turned to Spencer. “So, is me going to your wedding going to get you back to your time? Or do you think you’re going to be stuck here for a while?”

 

“Again, I have no idea,” Spencer said. He looked over at Brendon. “But, um, if it’s cool with everyone, I’d like to stay here? Unless you’re just as famous as Brendon and neither of you should be seen with me, then I’ll just hide out at Brendon’s house or whatever. It’s bigger.”

 

“I don’t really do much in public,” Ryan said. “You can stay here.”

 

“Sweet,” Spencer said. He bit his lower lip. “Wait. Do we have to stay here all the time, or can we still go over to Brendon’s. There’s a pool, and it’s a really nice house.”

 

“I have a wife,” Brendon said. 

 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “So do I, apparently.”

 

“I have friends who have pools,” Ryan said. “I’ll make up something about who you are and we can go hang out at one of their places, if you’re so concerned.”

 

“Thanks,” Spencer said. “Just, once I leave, can you tell Brendon I’m back where I should be?”

 

Ryan looked over at Brendon. They weren’t friends, but they had Spencer--both versions--to connect them, and that was going to have to be enough. Spencer was Brendon’s friend, the guy who had been with him through the split and had been the best man at his wedding. He was also Ryan’s friend, the guy who had known Ryan since they were kids and had been with Ryan through his dad’s death and a bunch of other shit. 

 

Ryan nodded to Spencer. “Yeah. I’ll tell him. And I’ll talk to future Spencer, whenever he gets back, and we’ll figure this out. Friendship, and all that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


End file.
